


Impession on a One Dollar Compact

by orphan_account



Category: Canadian 6 Degrees, The Firm (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Desk Sex, Episode Related, Established Relationship, F/M, Office Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray is possibly so bad at picking locks that he's willing to go to extreme lengths to get a key impression, or maybe, just maybe, he and Tammy just like to pretend that's how he rolls.<br/>This is an expansion on a scene from "Chapter Five," and contains a really cheesy verbatim line from said episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impession on a One Dollar Compact

Ever since Mitch called to warn Tammy that she was, under no circumstances, to give Sarah Holt’s apartment key to Ray, Tammy knew that Ray was going to be after her for it three ways: long, hard and wicked hard.  So when Ray started sweet-talking her, nibbling at her neck _just so_ in that way he knew drove her crazy, she was on high alert.  Not Code Red high alert, not a _real_ high alert, but she knew to be suspicious.

But Tammy loved it when Ray was persuasive.  Obviously.  Ray went into witness protection for Mitch and Abby, but he stayed there for Tammy.

So Tammy let Ray kiss her neck, both of them pretending it was because she needed to be talked into something.  She told him it was worthless to kiss on her to get Sarah’s apartment key, and he pretended like that wasn’t what he was after, sweeping her onto her back, knocking desk shit everywhere like he was all carried away in the moment.

And Tammy, who knew that someone from their own little firm should get into Sarah Holt’s apartment, let herself get swept away, kissing Ray’s ears, licking at his neck in that way she knew he liked, deliberately turning her head to the right, _her_ right, and pretending she didn’t notice that his mouth and his left hand were attentive (so very, _very_ attentive) to her, while his right hand did something else entirely somewhere off to her left.

Tammy admired his ability to multi-task; it was something she’d known about Ray over the years, and she liked how he pretended that she just happened to leave Sarah’s key and one of her own powder compacts (a disposable from the Dollar Tree) right there on her desk.  Even while Ray swept her backwards, his beard burning against her cheeks, she could see, from the corner of her eye, that he was pressing the key into her powder, pocketing the compact, and replacing the key on its hook.

The only question was: once he had made the impression and pocketed the compact, would he just saunter out of the office, leaving Tammy excited and wanting?  Sometimes he’d do that to her.  Hell, given the right circumstances, sometimes, _she_ would do that to _him_.  And, just when he left her spread out on her own desk, she thought maybe this time that was it, she would be left on her own, he surprised her once more.  Instead of slipping out the door, he locked it.

Tammy glanced over to see that Sarah Holt’s key was on the hook, maybe a little bit more powdery than it had been, and Tammy’s own cheap-ass compact was missing, undoubtedly already in Ray’s pocket.  She'd be mad, but Mitch was being an ass about this, and Tammy was always more inclined to have Ray's back over Mitch's dodgy scruples.

And this time, Ray had locked the office door from the inside, and Jesus fuck, that was hotter than Hades, because then Ray was completely focused on Tammy, now that he’d gotten what he wanted.  And being the focus of Ray’s attention was inherently good.

“Someone order a big slab of me?” Ray asked, and it was so cheesy, so Ray, so _them_ , that she had to laugh, and the fact that the whole thing had started as Ray’s goofy private investigator chicanery (like Tammy hadn’t written the fucking book on that action), became immaterial, because from the moment he locked the door, Ray only cared about Tammy, about making her happy, and she knew it had nothing to do with finessing Sarah Holt’s apartment key.  No, this was all about Ray being with Tammy, in the moment with Tammy, utterly determined to be with her.

And Tammy had never really had big office sex fantasies, for all that she and Ray were sharing office space.  But Ray had sent her pens and pencils and stamps and sundries flying everywhere (even before he’d locked the door, the act that had shut off Ray the Investigator from Ray the Man Who Loved Tammy).  And Tammy had just stretched herself out on the desk, waiting for him, trusting that he’d be back, and had been justly rewarded.

And, oh, God, Ray had rewarded her.  He’d pulled her ass right to the edge of her desk, pushing what there was of her dress up, pulling her panties down, and it would have been downright _rude_ , except that he’d checked with her, made eye contact with her, no words necessary at this point, and she’d given him an _expression_ he knew exactly how to interpret, and he hadn't gone straight into her, instead going down on her so sweetly that she knew it wasn't a con, it was because he loved her, wanted to make her happy.

Tammy didn't want him to take too long with it, because the way he'd just swept her on her back (granted, in a half-hearted effort to con her) had just made a part of her _melt_ , so she hiked her knees on either side of his hips and he plunged into her, muttering filthy endearments she’d heard a hundred times before, that she loved _because_ she’d heard them a hundred times before. After all their years together, Ray and Tammy both knew how to make it good for each other.

It was so good Tammy was willing to pretend her compact wasn’t missing, because she trusted Ray; the only ones who could trump Ray in Tammy’s willingness to trust were Mitch, Abby or even Claire if any of them called a Code Red.  But this wasn’t a Code Red; this was Ray, trying to do his job in spite of the restrictions Mitch had put on him, restrictions Tammy herself disagreed with.

So, sure, Ray used sex and Tammy’s cheap makeup to make an impression of Sarah’s key because Mitch didn’t want Ray to have Sarah’s _actual_ key.  But both Ray and Tammy knew he would do that, and both Ray and Tammy knew that Ray wouldn’t have too much trouble picking Sarah’s lock; in fact, using Tammy’s compact to make an impression of the key to be copied later was _way_ more complicated than picking the lock, for all of Ray’s protests that he just couldn’t pick a lock.

But it was part of the game they were all playing, and Tammy played her own part by reassembling the bits of shredded document Ray left behind while he “did something else totally case-relevant, baby” (really, he worked on it for all of ten minutes before fucking off for pancakes at the corner diner).  Because there were about ten thousand ways he could’ve gotten into Sarah Holt's apartment without sweeping Tammy off her feet, but that was the path he chose.  And he totally could've put together her shredded document, but Tammy liked the one-upsmanship of getting it done while he was off having _goddamned_  brunch already; Tammy could Nero Wolfe, Sam Spade and fucking Jessica fucking Fletcher the everloving _shit_ out of any given investigation before Ray could decide between maple or goddamned boysenberry syrup.  Jesus.

Tammy sometimes wondered how the Brothers McDeere had ever gotten along without her...except, oh, right, one of them had gone to prison for fucking _manslaughter_ and the other had needed her to save his fucking bacon, where _bacon_ meant _life._  

Yeah, Tammy thinks, she's the _dumbass_ here, she's the one who Ray had to put one over on, only they both know better.

And her completing the "puzzle" of Sarah's shredded document was her tacit reward to him because, even after all the years together, having Ray McDeere push her backwards onto her own desk, and knowing it was all part of a larger game, was just so…delicious that Tammy thought he deserved an extra gift.

**Author's Note:**

> As a writer, I feel that this story needs some serious work, which I will be doing, but not right this instant. Meanwhile, I sorta like it too much to take it down entirely until I do the necessary infrastructure repairs.


End file.
